Mother's love transfer

My daughter treated me like her worst enemy.

I enrolled her in piano lessons, and she accused me of wanting to parade her on stage for others' amusement.

She wanted to meet a guy she met online, but I forbade it. She screamed that I was violating her freedom.

She won first place in a national piano competition, her future bright, but in a public interview, she claimed I only saw her as a money-making machine.

Later, when I had a heart attack, she flushed my medication down the toilet, saying I deserved to die.

Reborn, I sold the expensive piano and stopped paying for her lessons.

I watched her fall from grace, unmoved.

And then, she regretted everything.

...

I woke up to a text from her piano teacher.

"Mrs. Miller, Claires tuition for next semester is due. It's $4,800, same as usual.

"Also, has she been preoccupied lately? She's been on her phone during lessons and hasn't practiced. Her assignments haven't been done for two weeks."

"At this rate, she won't even qualify for the national competition, let alone win."

"Please talk to her. Her future is at stake."

Staring at the familiar words, my breath hitched. Last time, Id received this same message.

Id asked Claire what was going on, and she told me shed met a guy online, ten years older than her, and they were planning to meet.

She was a minor. This online relationship was a recipe for disaster. I refused to let her throw herself into the fire.

Shed thrown a tantrum, threatened to kill herself if I didnt let her see him, and smashed her nearly brand-new piano with a wrench. The piano, a 0-00,000 gift for her sixteenth birthday.

Of course, I hadn't relented.

I paid a fortune to repair the piano, made her delete the dating app, paid her tuition, and supervised her practice every day.

Through sheer force of will, she won the national competition six months later, impressing the judges and securing a scholarship to a prestigious music school. Her future seemed limitless.

Id watched my daughter, crowned with victory, feeling immensely proud.

Then, in the post-competition interview, shed tearfully accused me of unspeakable cruelty.

She said I was the person she hated most.

That piano lessons were just a way for me to exploit her talent.

That Id driven away her father and grandmother, keeping her from her loved ones.

That Id forbidden her from true love, forcing her to break up on pain of death.

That I was poor and desperate, pinning all my hopes on her becoming my cash cow.

Her voice cracked with emotion, moving the reporters to tears.

Watching the interview on TV, rage and shock triggered a heart attack.

Claire was right beside me. As I struggled to breathe, shed calmly flushed my medication down the drain, her face a mask of malice and triumphant revenge.

Dont bother. You should have died a long time ago.

Those were the last words I heard.

My spirit floated above, watching her call 911, feigning grief as paramedics took my body away for futile resuscitation attempts.

In front of the media, she sobbed dramatically, garnering sympathy. The music school waived all her fees and offered a $20,000 annual stipend. A famous pianist declared her his protge, promising to send her abroad to study.

She reconnected with her estranged father, posting pictures of their heartwarming reunion online, receiving a flood of well-wishes.

Meanwhile, online commenters celebrated my death, calling it karmic justice. My ashes were buried in a neglected plot in the suburbs. Tourists visiting the city would spit on my grave as a form of morbid sightseeing.

My husbands affair had ended our marriage. Fearful of his new wifes influence on Claire, Id given up everything in the divorce to secure custody.

Id worked multiple jobs to afford her piano lessons, sacrificing everything for her talent. Id hired the best teachers, draining my savings.

Years of sweat and blood, poured into her success, and shed trampled me into the dirt.

So much for a mothers love.

I texted the teacher back.

Im sorry, I wont be paying for Claires lessons anymore. If she wants to continue, her father can take care of it.

If she saw me as her enemy, despite everything Id done, then so be it.

This time, Id give her the freedom she craved.

I exhaled slowly, looking around my former home. Id lived here with Claire, my husband John, and his mother, before the divorce.

Claire was at school, John was on a business trip, and his mother was out line dancing.

The house wasn't large D three bedrooms and a living room. My mother-in-law had a room, Claire had a room, and Claires piano and books occupied the third. John, always traveling, rarely stayed home. When he did, he slept in his mothers room, and shed share Claires queen-sized bed.

Me? I slept on the sofa bed in the living room. Sofa by day, bed by night. A constant reminder that I was an outsider in my own home. My personal belongings were crammed into a small cabinet in the piano room. Even then, Claire constantly complained that my things were taking up too much space, threatening to throw my clothes away.

The house was jointly owned. It should have been mine after John's infidelity. But he and his mistress had been cunning, with my mother-in-law adding fuel to the fire.

To keep Claire, Id given up everything, walking away with nothing. We'd moved into a small apartment near her school. Claire had resented me for it. She insisted the house was Johns, accusing me of dragging her down with me. She constantly complained about the lack of allowance, accusing me of withholding child support. John hadn't paid a cent. She thought I prevented her from seeing him because I was afraid hed take her away. The truth was, I didnt want her to see John and his new wifes perfect life, their eagerly awaited son, and the blatant disregard for her existence.

Shed always believed John was the best person in the world and, by extension, adored her grandmother. She didn't know they resented me for not giving them a son, for failing to continue their family line.

My kindness had been twisted into something ugly. A lifetime of devotion, repaid with resentment and accusations. Pathetic.

But I was reborn. I had a second chance to choose my own life.

I called the music store to arrange the sale of the piano. Last time, my life savings had gone into buying that instrument. Her old piano was out of tune, beyond repair. The national competition was her chance to soar, and I hadnt wanted a faulty piano to hold her back.

And what had she done? Smashed it without a second thought.

If she didnt want it, Id take it back.

Just then, Claire came home from school, a dreamy smile plastered on her face. "I'm home!" she cooed into her phone. "See you later, babe." The smile vanished when she saw me, replaced with the familiar look of disgust, as if I were a rotting rat.

I was in the piano room. What are you doing here, old lady? she snarled. "Spying on my practice again? You're so pathetic!"

I told you, I hate playing the piano! I dont want to! Other parents are so chill. They let their kids watch TV, read, play video games after school. I have to practice every day, and you even nag me about going to bed!"

Even though Id decided to let go, her words stung, a deep ache in my chest. I remembered when Claire was little, her eyes shining with excitement as she talked about becoming a pianist. John had refused to spend money on lessons, her grandmother calling her a waste of resources. Only I, against their disapproval, had invested in her dream.

Now she claimed to hate it? That I was forcing her?

An hour of practice a day to prepare for the competition was depriving her of freedom? Pushing her to practice, to aim for a prestigious university, wasn't for her own good?

Telling her to go to bed instead of playing video games until 2 am when she had school at 6 am D was that wrong?

Now, there was no anger, only a chilling emptiness.

"You're right," I said calmly. "I won't force you to practice anymore."

What? Claire looked at me, disbelief etched on her face.

I repeated, slowly and clearly, I wont force you to practice anymore. In fact, I won't force you to do anything you dont want to do.

No more checking your homework, no more nagging about bedtime. You want to date? Go ahead. I won't interfere. I won't control you anymore. You're free to do whatever you want.

I made myself perfectly clear. She could tell I wasnt bluffing, or trying reverse psychology. I meant it.

A slow smile spread across her face.

"I can quit piano lessons?" she asked tentatively.

"Of course," I smiled. "I havent paid for next semester anyway."

Her expression flickered, a hint of unease, but she quickly brushed it aside. Right now, securing her freedom was her priority.

"I met this guy online, hes really sweet. Im going to meet him this weekend. You wont stop me, right?"

"Of course not," I nodded. "I support you finding true love."

She tested me with a few more requests, all of which I readily agreed to, promising no interference. Satisfied, she skipped to her room, threw her backpack on the floor, and flopped onto her bed, phone in hand, ready to game.

"I'm starving!" she yelled. "I want sweet and sour pork for dinner! Make it now!"

I ignored her, scrolling through my phone, contacting a lawyer friend to draft divorce papers. John would be home tonight; a perfect time for him to sign.

As for dinner? Anyone who wanted it could make it. I was ordering takeout to celebrate my rebirth.

After a couple of rounds of her game, Claire emerged, ravenous. Finding the dining table empty, she exploded. "I said I wanted sweet and sour pork! Are you deaf as well as stupid?"

I glanced up from my phone. "I told you, I'm not taking care of you anymore. Your hunger isnt my problem."

"Are you crazy, old lady?" she shrieked. "If you dont cook, who will?"

I shrugged. "Whoever wants to can cook. I wont." Cooking for myself? Absolutely. Cooking for this ungrateful child? No, thank you.

The doorbell rang. My dim sum takeout had arrived. As Claire watched in stunned silence, I unpacked the steaming containers. Congee, shrimp dumplings, shumai, pan-fried dumplings all the things Id denied myself to save money.

She plopped down at the table. Which one is mine?

"I ordered this for myself," I said. "There's nothing for you."

Her eyes bulged. "Then what am I supposed to eat? Youve lost your mind!

"I knew this sudden change was fake! You're just trying to trick me into practicing! Im so sick of it!

No wonder Dad never comes home! No one can stand you!

"Give me money! I'm going out for seafood!"

I popped a shrimp dumpling into my mouth, savoring the flavor. "Ask your dad for money."

She sputtered, momentarily speechless. Then she grabbed her phone and dialed. Dad! Can you send me some money? I want to go out to eat!

That old woman is insane! She didnt make dinner, ordered all this fancy food for herself, and said shes not going to take care of me anymore.

Really? Youre on your way? Great! Ill be waiting!

She hung up, grinning triumphantly. Dads landing soon! Hes bringing me takeout!

See how generous he is? Look at you! I don't know why he married you in the first place."

"Old and washed up, working some dead-end job, dressed in rags youre worse than a cleaning lady

I smiled bitterly. My job used to be demanding, with long hours and good pay. After Claire was born, Id switched to a lower-paying position with shorter hours so I could be home to make her dinner. For over a decade, from kindergarten until now. And all my sacrifices, in her eyes, were worthless.

I shook my head, focusing on my food. It had been so long since Id enjoyed a meal alone. It felt strangely liberating.

By the time Id finished, Claire was practically gnawing on the table. John finally arrived, suitcase in tow. Claire launched herself at him.

Daddy, youre back!

That old woman is crazy! She wouldnt feed me! Im starving!

John shot me a disgusted look, patting Claires head. Dont worry, sweetie. Well ignore her. Come on, lets eat.

I picked this up for you on the way home. Your favorite pork and preserved egg wontons. Eat them while theyre hot.

He placed a 0-00 container of wontons on the table.

Wow, thanks, Daddy! Claire squealed. Youre the best!

I almost laughed. Picked up on the way home, hed said. More like bought at the corner store down the street. John was notoriously stingy, rarely spending a dime on Claire or me. His mistress, however, enjoyed a steady stream of designer clothes, handbags, cosmetics, and a brand new luxury car.

Whenever he did spend a little on Claire, hed milk it for all it was worth, exaggerating his generosity. And Claire, bless her heart, fell for it every time.

Like her sixteenth birthday. Hed gifted her an $8 in-game skin. Hed claimed he knew how much she loved the game, and that hed spent hours choosing the perfect skin. Claire had been ecstatic, showering him with praise.

My 0-00,000 piano, meanwhile, had been completely ignored, overshadowed by complaints about forced practice.

While Claire slurped her wontons, I called John over to the coffee table. He frowned. What is it? I need to unpack. I have work to do.

He couldnt even bear to speak to me anymore, constantly worried Id ask for money for Claire's piano lessons.

I sighed, handing him the divorce papers. John, lets get divorced.